Disclaimer: I don't own PJO.

A humorous oneshot centered around the sand dollar Poseidon gave Percy at the end of BOTL. Written for percabeth777, who gave me the idea to write this fanfic.


Percy stared at the sand dollar lying in the palm of his hand. How could something so light bring such a heavy weight with it? Percy wondered. It had been over two months since he had received the sand dollar as a present from his father Poseidon and he still had no idea what to do with it.

In the right situation, I think you'll find it still buys rather a lot, Poseidon had said. But what was the right situation? And how much could it buy?

Percy flopped down on his bed and started to daydream about what he'd like the sand dollar to be able to buy. A Ferrari, his own private island, a date with Annabeth-uh, not the last one. No, really.

He continued dreaming. A bigger, nicer house, a way out of the prophecy-suddenly Percy sat bolt upright.

A way out of the prophecy! That was it!

He congratulated himself on his stroke of genius (though he could practically hear Annabeth's voice saying sarcastically, "For the first and last time") and hastily shoved whatever he could find into his bag, got dressed in record time, and ran out the door.

Two hours and five minutes later, Percy's feet hurt. He had accidentally worn one of his mother's high heels by mistake (told you he got dressed in a hurry) and now he had several blisters. Percy trudged on. Escaping the prophecy would be worth it.

Four hours, twenty nine minutes, and three seconds later, Percy was hungry and thirsty. Why hadn't he remembered to bring something as essential as food? he wondered. Remember the prophecy, something reminded him. Something gave him the strength to keep going. Perhaps it was the hoard of monsters behind him.

Six hours, fifty minutes, nine seconds and an additional seven tenths of a second later Percy was getting annoyed. It had started to rain. Percy stopped, dropped his bag on the ground, and screamed up at the sky, "WHY ME?!" Zeus was not pleased.

Two weeks, three hours, forty-two minutes, twenty seconds, five tenths of a second, and some even smaller increment of time later, Percy had finally reached his destination. He was unwashed, smelly, his clothes were in tatters, and he was generally a mess. But still Percy wore a big, stupid smile on his face. He was finally there. And where exactly is there, you might ask?

Why, the headquarters of the Titans, of course.

It was time to put his plan into action. As Luke-well, Kronos, came strolling around a corner, whistling a jaunty tune, he walked straight into Percy.

Before Kronos could say anything, Percy jumped straight into his speech. Holding out the sand dollar, he tapped Kronos's shoulder and muttered discreetly, "Psst...hey, Lu-uh, Kronos. I'll give you this sand dollar if you stop being such a jerk and trying to take over the world."

Kronos looked at him. Percy smiled expectantly. What an excellent idea this had been!

"FEEL MY WRATH, YOUNG DEMIGOD!"

Orrrrrrrr....maybe not.


Reviews are appreciated, flames are accepted, constructive criticism is happily welcomed. But remember; this isn't supposed to be serious.

Thanks goes to my wonderful beta reader the Epitome of Randomness as well!

Sincerely,

Sheva Das